Lost and Found pt 1 of 2
by PinkSandals
Summary: A case hits close to home for Catherine, when Lindsey's tutor is abducted. Then nothing is as it seems, and the case draws ever closer to another CSI. Part one COMPLETED!
1. Daddy

**LOST AND FOUND**

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or the CSI characters, not that I wouldn't want to.

Footsteps in a well-kept hallway echo rhythmically and fade away. A heavy oak door opens, and the footsteps muffle on the carpet. Typing, flipping pages, machines printing, copying. The sounds of an office calm her as she steps up to the counter.

"My name is Rachel Weiss, I am signing out. I have a dentist appointment at eleven" the girl said confidently. "I have a note".

The receptionist skims it robotically and hands it back to Rachel. "Great; don't forget to sign in when you get back, dear" she says. Rachel smiles at her and leaves.

She leaves Butterfield Academy and sits down on the curb to wait for her mother. Thoughts wander in and out of her mind. Waves of hate crash over her as she tries to think up reasons her parents sent her to a school for out-of-hand kids. Almost Juvenile delinquents. She didn't belong there and everyone knew it, too.

"Shut up! Shut up!" She hissed, and clamped her hands over her ears to prevent whirling thoughts. Her parents didn't know she knew, how was she to keep a secret? "Stop it…" she said to herself. Thoughts were choking her and she needed them to stop. She checked her watch. It was a quarter to eleven. She remembered she had to tutor Lindsey after school. Seventh grade science, it will be easy, she thought to herself. She began to recite the elements to take her mind off things. She was good at remembering lists. Always had been.

She finally came back to reality when she felt a hand on her shoulder. A red Durango was idling nearby and she jumped. Panic was engulfing her.

"Get out of here, dad. You are on a restraining order. You CAN'T be here," she said quickly as she turned around and faced him. He smiled his plasticky smile at her and pulled her up.

"How are you, Rach?" he asked, clearly trying to charm her into forgiving him. She struggled slightly to try and escape his tight grasp on her wrists.

"Let go of me daddy, please, just get out of here before mom comes and you get yourself in trouble," she said, still struggling. He kept his grip on her and looked her in the eye.

"Rach, you waiting for your mother? Is she going to take you to the dentist, Rach? You know what that slut did Rachel? She's going to kill you," his tone was almost playful and sarcastic. Rachel panicked. He started to drag her over to his truck. Rachel fumbled for her phone, but her father drew out a pocketknife before she could react. There was blood, and her phone fell to the ground.

"DADDY! Stop it! Please, daddy, let me go! Stop, dad!" Rachel shrieked. She struggled to free herself, but his hand tightened and she felt powerless. She looked around, but nobody was there to rescue her. Blood was dripping from somewhere. She didn't know where she was cut. Rachel started to feel delirious.

Pauline Weiss approached Butterfield Academy in her smart gold-coloured sportscar. She couldn't see Rachel so she parked and ran towards the entrance.

"Crist, Rach, you'll be late" she hissed to herself, dialling Rachel's phone. She crossed the parking lot. She froze. Rachel's phone was ringing not thirty feet away. Pauline approached it. "Good Lord!" she wailed. A bloody handprint gripped the phone, and she noticed Rachel's bag strewn into the bushes. Shaking, Pauline dialled 9-1-1.


	2. San Francisco

**LOST AND FOUND**

**(a very long)CHAPTER TWO**

**Disclaimer** I do not own CSI or any of the CSI characters. Not that I wouldn't like to.

The team was relaxing after an uneventful shift. Laughter hung in the small restaurant and waiters scurried around endlessly. Catherine was telling Warrick about Lindsey's new ambition to become a marine biologist and Nick ordered another side of calamari as he listened in. Sara laughed at something Greg whispered in her ear and Grissom was concentrating on something in his water. Someone's scanner crackled to life and they grew silent. Once again, Brass was calling them away to a crime scene. Another abduction.

They got up to leave when Catherine's phone rang.

"Willows…" Catherine said monotonously. She suddenly perked up. "Lindsey! What? Rachel? Hold on, no… honey. Calm down, I'll be right there…" She tried to mouth something to the team, but nobody could make it out although they understood. Catherine ran to her car, still on the phone. The rest of the team headed to their Denalis and set off.

They pulled up to the Academy. Despite it being the middle of the day, crowds of concerned teachers, students, and parents sat outside waiting for some sort of news. A girl had been snatched from right under their noses and they weren't about to pass it off easy. Pauline Weiss was shouting at a policeman to find her husband, she seemed convinced he had Rachel and he'd kill her. The policeman wasn't swayed, and was trying to calm her down, saying he'd put out a broadcast on her husband's red Durango.

"There's Catherine…" Sara remarked as they stopped. Lindsey was crying and desperately clutching her mom's arm for comfort. "Let's go find out what this is all about" Sara said, captivated by the tragedy they were unaware of. They hiked through the crowd to where Brass was standing.

"Something bad…" Warrick started but cut himself off when he saw the scene. Or the lack of one. The phone lay on the ground, covered in bloody fingerprints that made it look alive and created an eerie aura. The CSI's kneeled down, and started to process the scene.

"We are going to need any witnesses, friends, people Rachel made contact with today, to come downtown and make a statement," Nick told Det. Vartann as he surveyed the crowd. Vartann nodded, and walked off.

The crowd watched curiously as the CSI's took photos from every possible angle of Rachel's phone and the small trail of blood leading to nowhere.

"Rachel must be a pretty popular kid," Greg exclaimed as he carefully bagged the phone. Sara looked up, smiled and casually scanned the crowd. Her eyes stopped on Pauline Weiss.

"She must be." Sara wondered aloud. She took one last photo of the blood trail.

Grissom's phone rang. It was Catherine. He waved to her, and hung up as she approached, followed by her daughter. From the outside of the yellow tape, she searched for words.

"Conflict of interest?" He asked, although he already knew her response.

"Yeah, that's it. See… Rachel is Lindsey's tutor. The girl is in my house every Friday…" Catherine said, with a certain sadness that dulled her voice.

"That's alright. You hang in there, we'll manage," Grissom promised. He began to make his way back, when he turned and tried to say something, but stopped. "We might… need you…still…" he hinted. Catherine understood, and left.

"How's everything going?" Grissom asked as he approached the team.

"I think we're about done here, boss" Warrick said, as he looked over the scene. "There wasn't much to do…"

"Alright" Grissom said, "Let's get back and start processing the phone. Hopefully some new evidence will turn up, we don't have much to go by here."

The team ducked under the yellow tape, found their way back to their Denalis and headed back to the lab.

Warrick sat in front of the computer searching the database for anything on George Weiss. Surprisingly, something popped up immediately. George Weiss had a rap sheet including multiple counts of domestic abuse and more recently, he spent a night in a cell for putting a gun to his wife's head in front of his daughter in a mall parking lot; which triggered a restraining order. Pauline had filed for divorce two weeks ago. Warrick frowned. The case was taking many unexpected turns.

Warrick found Grissom, Sara and Nick looking over pictures of the crime scene.

"Guys, we have a suspect with a rap sheet and a restraining order," he said. They turned around with interest. Warrick continued: "It's daddy!" He tossed George Weiss' sheet on the table.

"Pauline was convinced it was him…" Sara wondered out loud. She reached for the sheet. "Restraining order… we need to talk to this guy" She said. Nick and Grissom nodded in agreement. Suddenly, there were two abrupt knocks and they turned to see Det. Vartann at the door. He stepped in.

"I have some people you'd like to talk to." Vartann handed a list to Grissom.

"Three friends, Mrs. Meyers the receptionist, and her English teacher Mr. Oliver," Grissom read off.

"I have them waiting… when you're ready," Vartann reported. The team followed him out.

"Guys!"

They turned to see Greg in the hallway, waving a piece of paper.

"Yes, Greg?" Asked Grissom.

"Results off Rachel's cellphone!" he cried excitedly. As they came up, he continued. "You are going to _love_ me. I just completed your triangle… the victim, suspect, crime scene!" He said to Grissom. Catching his look of irritation, Greg went on: "There were multiple bloody prints all over the phone. The blood is Rachel's." He said, waiting for a reaction before continuing "And four of the prints came back to George Weiss." He said. "Suspect's fingerprints in the victim's blood, found at the crime scene." They exchanged glances of knowing and surprise.

"Yeah, but Greg… your victim and suspect are still missing…" Sara warned in a playful tone.

"Good job, Greggo," Grissom replied.

"We do need to talk to this man," Nick said, and they left to talk to Rachel's friends, teacher, and receptionist.

Sara and Warrick entered the interrogation room A to see three worried-looking teenage girls. The CSI's sat down and introduced themselves. The girls introduced themselves as Chloe, Brianna and Elle.

"Tell us about Rachel" Sara started.

"She's secretive," said Chloe, "there's a lot she doesn't say," the other girls agreed.

"What sort of things doesn't she say?" Warrick asked, digging deeper.

"Well, she once told us she used to live in San Francisco, but that's all she said." Elle, the middle girl replied.

"Like she says things but never elaborates on them," said Chloe.

"If you ask her a question about her family she gets all…" said Brianna, trying to think.

"…Like a bit sensitive, and gets all mad maybe that she'll say too much." Elle finished. Brianna nodded.

"What about her parents?" Asked Sara.

"They seem normal, maybe a little secretive too." Elle said.

"Would either of Rachel's parents ever hurt her?" Sara asked, getting a bit tense.

"Never…" Brianna said confidently. Sara waited for a 'but' that never came.

"Anything else you'd like us to know about her?" Warrick asked.

"She said if she'd ever run away she'd try and go home, but we never figured out what she meant by that." Chloe stated.

"Home like, to San Francisco?" Asked Sara, confused.

"Maybe…" said Brianna.

"Is Rachel the type to run away from home?" Asked Warrick.

"Not really," Elle responded. "She's pretty hardcore and determined, but I don't think she'd do that to her parents." She said.

"Rachel was definitely taken by someone against her will" Brianna said. Her friends agreed. Sara and Warrick thanked the girls for their time and got up to leave.

Meanwhile, Nick and Grissom had been talking to Mr. Oliver, Rachel's English teacher. Apparently, Rachel had confided in him. She'd told him things her parents did to her, and her wishes of running away to San Francisco. He said she never elaborated or explained anything, especially if she needed to. He tried to help her, but she panicked and refused help, for fear of being 'taken away again'. He thought maybe she just needed to talk to someone, so he listened.

"That's weird…" Sara said thoughtfully as the team sat down to share what they knew. "Her friends told us her parents would never hurt her, and a teacher just said they did… and there is something about San Francisco we should know about." She said.

"Either her friends had no idea what her parents could do, or they as well as Rachel, hid it well. Judging from George's rap sheet, I can safely say he wasn't so loving and caring." Nick stated.

"That's true," Warrick said, "George pulled a gun on his wife, so who knows what else he did. Who knows what he's capable of?"

"I'll tell you what he's capable of…" Brass stated as he walked in. "Abduction." The team just stared at him, wanting to know more. "Cop pulled him over downtown and found his daughter in the backseat, covered in blood. She's on her way to the hospital, and her lovely father is on his way here." Brass said. A look of relief was shared by all, but things had only just begun.


	3. Bruises

Thanks for the reviews: )

**LOST AND FOUND**

**CHAPTER THREE**

**Disclaimer**I do not own CSI or the CSI characters, sadly.

Sara was heading over to the hospital to see Rachel and collect any evidence the girl had, as well as photograph her injuries. At the lab, Grissom called Catherine to bring Lindsey in for questioning. Rachel didn't open up much to anyone so they weren't sure what they'd accomplish with her.

Sara approached Rachel's room. There was a nurse in the room, cleaning Rachel's cuts. She stopped when she saw Sara and came over.

"You must be the CSI," the nurse said kindly. "The poor girl's pretty banged up. I needed to clean her injuries up quickly, she wouldn't stop bleeding." Sara frowned as the nurse continued; "I sent a blood sample for testing but I am pretty sure she has hemophilia or something like it. You don't see bruises that bad in football players," the nurse pointed to the girl's arm. Sara did a double take; she couldn't believe what she saw.

"Hemophilia is extremely rare in girls, isn't it?" Asked Sara.

"It happens." The nurse replied. Sara nodded.

"When do you expect the test to come back?" Sara asked, curiously.

"Tomorrow morning, I can contact you then, if that's alright." The nurse replied, and escorted Sara inside. "I put her things in there for you…" she said, indicating a yellowed envelope sitting on the table. The nurse continued to clean up Rachel and treated her abrasions with a greenish antibiotic. "She should be waking up anytime, Miss Sidle, so don't worry if she comes to." Sara nodded, and the nurse left the room.

Catherine walked down the hall of the crime lab, holding on to Lindsey protectively. She stopped at the interrogation room, where an officer escorted Lindsey to a seat behind a table that made her look much smaller and scared. Catherine continued to take her own seat behind the glass as Nick walked into the interrogation room and sat down.

"Lindsey…" Nick started, making sure she was listening… "I need you to tell me if Rachel ever said anything about her parents hurting her… maybe… if she ever told you about San Francisco, or about running away from home…?" Lindsey stared at him for a second before glancing to where she knew her mom sat watching behind the two-way glass.

"That's all she ever talks about…" She replied. Nick was taken aback; they finally found someone Rachel had confided in.

Back at the hospital, Sara was taking pictures of Rachel's bruised wrists. The injuries were actually something Sara had grown accustomed to seeing; her father had had the same disease the nurse expected Rachel of having. The bruises were a very dark purple, and in some places, Sara could actually make out where George's fingers grasped his daughter too tightly. There was also a deep gash in Rachel's forearm, which was obviously not self-inflicted judging from the awkward angle it was at. Sara suddenly noticed Rachel's eyes fluttering. She was waking up.

Catherine was stunned. For three hours every Friday, she assumed Lindsey and Rachel were discussing science and theories. The girl was a great teacher; Lindsey's mark skyrocketed since Rachel started helping her. She had no idea the girl had trusted her daughter so deeply. Rachel seemed like a normal kid, but normal kids can always act like nothing is wrong if they have a diversion.

"She told me everything because she knew I could help," Lindsey glanced in her mother's direction, " …and nobody else would believe her... But I did... She told me everything… because we're alike and she knew I'd understand." Lindsey said very convincingly.

"Now tell me what she told you." Nick said. Lindsey looked apprehensive. "Tell me everything she told you from the beginning, and I promise I'll believe you." Nick said. With another glance of 'here it goes' to Catherine, Lindsey took a deep breath and tried to remember every little detail before she began.

"Rachel told me that when she was very young, Pauline and George Weiss were her neighbours." Lindsey said slowly, looking beyond Nick, avoiding directness; "then something bad happened and they kidnapped her and they moved to San Francisco, and then to Las Vegas. She said that no matter who believes her, she can prove it." Lindsey said. That was it. Catherine's mouth dropped open in shock. Nick expected more, but when none came he asked;

"Something bad happened? What was that?"

"She never told me exactly," Lindsey replied.

"And did she tell you how she could prove she was kidnapped?" Nick asked. Lindsey shook her head.

"That's all she told me." Lindsey said. Realizing her mother's presence, she continued: "But of course Rachel taught me and helped me with my homework… sometimes we would just get to talking about ourselves…" she said.

"What did you tell her about yourself?" Nick asked.

"I don't know… wait…" Lindsey interrupted when Nick opened his mouth to say something. "I need to talk to Catherine first. I need to tell my mom…" Lindsey panicked. She stood up, and pleadingly looked in her mother's direction.

Rachel sat up. She looked energetic considering her physical and emotional state. Sara pulled up a chair.

"Hi Rachel…" she said, smiling, "I'm Sara Sidle. I'm with the Crime Lab." Sara told her. Rachel looked at her, analysing what she just heard.

"You're who?" She asked.

"Sara Sidle." Sara said, wondering why she had to repeat herself.

"Crime Lab?" Rachel wondered out loud,

"Yeah," Sara said, slightly confused. "I needed to photo-document your injuries for evidence," she continued as Rachel listened carefully. Suddenly, the girl realized where she was. She examined her arms.

"Did you get him?" Asked Rachel, indicating her father. Sara nodded.

"He's in police custody facing charges for breaching orders of restraint, as well as abduction, since you are in custody of your mother at this point," Sara explained. Rachel nodded in agreement. She frowned.

"How did it stop?" She whispered. Sara wondered what she was talking about. "Bleeding, I mean…" Rachel said, indicating the gash in her arm.

"I'm not the nurse," Sara said, examining the injury. "You have hemophilia don't you?" Sara asked. The girl nodded. Sara smiled, "My dad had that. It's nasty isn't it?" Rachel grinned.

"It's type A. Mild to moderate…I deal." Rachel said, "My dad had it too." She replied, a bit sad. Like her dad was gone, thought Sara. He was, in a way, gone from her life, maybe trying to steal her back only to be ordered away by the law. They sat in silence, a pleasant silence shared.

Catherine was sitting in the interrogation room across from her daughter. Nick had moved to her spot behind the glass and Grissom ducked in to listen to Lindsey's burden.

Catherine anticipated a huge confession. She sat there in front of Lindsey and tried to feel supportive. Lindsey was searching for words.

"Lindsey, if it's important that we know something, you need to tell us." Catherine said, almost in a tone of annoyance, so Lindsey would understand the importance of her role in figuring out exactly what happened to Rachel, past and present.

"It's important, but I don't know how…" Lindsey said. Something big was eating at her. She decided to just throw it out cold. "Mom, we were just talking one day, and I don't know why… or how… but I told her…" Lindsey winced when her mother sighed in annoyance. Catherine leaned in, wanting to know more. "I told her… I told Rachel that my dad was killed by a drug dealer, and then she started telling me about what happened to her. Her… mommy, her dad was murdered too…a really long time ago… when she was three or four… " Lindsey said quietly, waiting for her mother to explode.

"And you just feel fine about telling absolutely anybody how your father was killed when even I don't know the truth? Lindsey…" Catherine looked beyond mad. Struggling to continue with anything understandable, she stood up and started to walk away.

"Mom, it's not like that… she is the only one I ever told. I can trust her, and she trusted me enough to tell me about what happened." Lindsey swallowed hard, on the verge of tears, begging her mother's forgiveness. Catherine stopped and turned around. Her lips were pressed together in speechless anger. "Mom!" Lindsey pleaded. Catherine walked out the door without another word. "NO WONDER I TALK TO ANYONE BUT YOU, MOM!" Lindsey shrieked as her mom walked briskly away. Lindsey headed for the door, but stopped. "YOU NEVER GAVE A DAMN!" She yelled at her mom, and ran out of the crime lab, sobbing. Grissom hurried out of the observation room, and went to find Catherine. Nick ran after Lindsey. They couldn't lose her.

"Catherine!" Grissom shouted in her direction. Catherine gave up and stopped. Trying hard not to cry, she screamed a 'what!' back. She didn't know why she was angry. Grissom put an arm around her.

"We don't find out people's secrets by accusing them of wrongdoing…" he told her. "We need to find out what else Lindsey knows, Catherine, and telling her that she is responsible for the well-being of her friend is unreasonable… she had nothing to do with Rachel's disappearance."

"I know…" Catherine sobbed. Angry tears escaped her eyes, and she stopped trying to regain herself. "I cannot have a conversation with my own daughter, because we fight constantly…" she paused. "We argue constantly because neither of us can admit we are wrong. She is so much like me it's sometimes… it's sometimes like I am arguing with myself," Catherine sat down on a bench, while Grissom continued to listen. "I'm not even a real mother to her. Just someone she can argue with." Catherine said silently, still crying. Grissom hugged her, and decided to say nothing although he could think of a million things to say.


	4. RDS

_Man, this chapter was a hard one to write! I have a good beginning and end, and this is the uninspired middle. Enjoy!_

**LOST AND FOUND**

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or the CSI characters. Sadly. 

Catherine was sitting, confused, in Grissom's office helping him with paperwork. She was worried about Lindsey and what her daughter thought of her. She gave a damn. She did. But that little girl had things to say, and found someone she trusted more than her mother. Catherine didn't want to believe it, or think of it at all at this point. She sighed. Grissom looked up.

"Don't worry about Lindsey, Catherine…" He said, reading her mind.

"I'm not worried about her. I am worried about who I am to her…" Catherine replied. "I'm not the one she goes to for help, or to talk," she said.

"You're right." Grissom said, pausing to write something. "She goes to Rachel," he continued. Seeing Catherine's look of agony, he went on; "it's her choice, Catherine, and if she needs a kid she can relate to, she needs a kid she can relate to…" he explained. Catherine said nothing, and they both continued working.

Lindsey was sitting outside the crime lab, on the curb, her head in her hands staring into the unknown. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks and broke at her fingers. Nick sat down beside her.

"It was really brave of you to tell us those things," he said. Lindsey avoided his look, and made a purpose of avoiding conversation as long as possible. Nick followed suit, and stared into nowhere. They sat there for a while, listening to whatever made noise.

"I didn't mean to make her angry… I didn't want to hurt her…" Lindsey finally said, turning to Nick. "Rachel said that all the truth ever did was hurt her. And now I believe it," Lindsey said, crying all over again. Nick took a deep breath of understanding and tried to think of something he could say to her.

"The truth hurts, Linds… I mean… it may sound cheesy… but it does." Nick started. "And keeping it bottled up inside just makes it worse. It eats at you… until you tell someone. Rachel needed to tell someone, and it was you," Nick said, gesturing to her. "You were someone she trusted, and to be that person she held close to her heart is something you should be proud of. It doesn't make you a bad person to make mistakes, tell too much… but something she did, Lindsey, triggered something inside of you to tell her the truth about your past too." Nick said, amazed he pulled off such a speech. Silent tears ran down the girl's cheeks, and she pleadingly looked at him, subconsciously saying 'thank you'.

"Greggo!" Warrick exclaimed as he entered the break room to find him indulged in a surf magazine. Greg put his hand up to indicate he was busy reading. A moment later, he looked up.

"Yes?" He said, excited for what Warrick had to say.

"I have George's truck in the garage… and I need someone to help me prove Rachel was taken by force…" He hinted.

"Let's go!" Greg replied excitedly, as he jumped up. They headed for the garage.

At the hospital, Rachel's tests had come back early and the nurse informed Sara that indeed Rachel had hemophilia type A. Despite that, the girl was in immaculate condition and had quickly recovered. She was to be discharged within the hour. In good spirits, Sara called Grissom to let him know she was bringing Rachel in for an interrogation.

"All there is back here is blood!" Called Greg from the backseat, searching for something else in the folds of the upholstery.

"Look harder, Greggo… we need something to prove she was tied up or restrained, or taken against her will…" Warrick explained while he searched the trunk over and over. "Otherwise it's just a girl who argued with her dad and got a cut…" He continued. Greg looked at him in disbelief, and back at the blood that covered the backseat.

"This isn't just a cut, man." Greg contemplated. He saw something shiny stuck in the seatbelt buckle. "Oh, take a look, take a look!" Greg celebrated, as he carefully extracted what turned out to be a bracelet, covered in fresh blood. Warrick came around to examine it.

"The clasp is torn right off…" Warrick observed. He took it from Greg. "R-D-S" he read. "R-D-S? Someone's initials? They aren't… Rachel's… are they?" He pondered. Greg shrugged.

"Is that good enough?" Greg asked impatiently, "Does that prove she was taken by force?"

"It proves R-D-S was taken by force," Warrick said. "Weather or not it's Rachel is another story... Sara photo-documented the girl's injuries, we should take a look at those for comparison," He said. "Good job Greggo," Warrick congratulated, punching him playfully on the shoulder as he left.

"When we get back to the lab, you're going to need to tell us exactly what happened, and how you got each one of your injuries…" Sara explained to Rachel, who listened nervously. Sara was trying to figure out the nicest way to ask about Rachel's parents and San Francisco. She needed to pry. The most important secrets hurt the most and Sara knew that. These secrets needed to be told.

"I'm not going to have to talk to Pauline am I? Or George?" Asked Rachel.

"Not if you don't want to." Sara replied. "Rachel…" Sara said, wanting to ask, but simultaneously wanting to shut up. Rachel looked at her. "You usually call your parents by their names? Or is that just because of what happened?" Sara asked, making it seem like she already knew what she was talking about. Rachel stared at her for an instant.

"I call my parents 'mom' and 'dad'." Rachel stated. "I call Pauline and George just that," she said abruptly. She was nervous because she didn't know how much this stranger knew about her and wasn't about to shout it out.

"I was under the impression Pauline and George were your parents," Sara said.

"They aren't." Rachel responded. She looked out her window. Sara took a deep breath, she wanted to know more and Rachel sensed it. "I don't like talking about this…" the girl said.

" Sometimes the things we don't want to talk about are the most important for us to say…" Sara said, feeling wise. "Telling someone isn't a sign of weakness… believe me, I learned the hard way."

"Believe you?" Rachel questioned. "I learned the hard way too. I learned not to believe people who say just that." She said. "It did nothing but hurt me."

"You can choose weather or not to believe me, but it's not me who kidnapped you, Rachel. People you should have been able to trust made you doubt them… I don't care if you choose to believe me, or, if you think it's all bull, but I'll tell you honestly and I'll tell you once… I was you, Rachel… I _do_ know how you feel right now. I've been there." Sara said, getting frustrated and angry. She didn't like kids, except she felt a sub-conscious connection with Rachel and knew she understood where she was coming from. Rachel said nothing. Her eyes got glossy but she suppressed any tears.

"Sorry." Rachel whispered. Sara barely caught it, but then suddenly felt bad about what she said. She hoped it triggered a will to say more in the interview.

Catherine and Grissom were just finishing off the paperwork. He had one last evaluation to go over before the interrogation.

"I guess…" Catherine started, "I'll be… going home now," she said as she stood up and stacked a dozen files on an already tipsy pile. She wanted to ask about Lindsey but felt awkward. Grissom smiled at her.

"I'll be here if you need anything," he said. Catherine left, and discreetly looked for her daughter on her way out. In the parking lot, she spotted Lindsey sitting with Nick on a curb. She wanted to go over to them, but decided not to, then decided to. But at that moment, Sara pulled up with Rachel in tow, which attracted Lindsey's attention towards them. Catherine unlocked her Denali and sat in the driver's seat observing. Any moment to strike conversation with her daughter or her coworkers had been spent.

Lindsey ran over to Rachel and hugged her hard. A moment passed, and they were silent. Lindsey was truly gleeful to see her friend safe. Sara handed Nick the envelope containing the photos, and they watched Lindsey whisper something solemn, probably about what she had said about her to the police. Catherine couldn't stand just watching anymore and came out. Lindsey looked a bit frightened, and Rachel was apprehensive about Catherine after she undoubtedly found out swamps about her that Rachel had been specifically hiding.

"Hey Cath," Nick said, coming over to break up the fight that hadn't started. They started conversing inaudibly.

"Rachel, I'll be just a second," Sara said, indicating she was going to deliver the pictures and et cetera to the lab before returning shortly. Rachel nodded.

"Did you write your exam yet?" Rachel asked Lindsey. The little girl nodded, smiling fiendishly.

"94!" She squealed. Rachel congratulated her. Catherine and Nick approached the girls. Lindsey expected a lecture.

"I'm not sorry about what I said, mom. I hate secrets because they hurt, and if it hurt you… what I said… then…" Lindsey tried to continue before her mom would say something, to no avail.

"I'm sorry I yelled, honey…" She started, but didn't know what else to say.

"Miss Willows?" Rachel said after a long pause, surprising Catherine. "…Sometimes," she said, watching Sara talking to someone inside. "Sometimes… the things we don't want to talk about are the most important for us to say." She said with a smile. Sara came back outside to fetch her, so she turned and headed inside leaving Nick and Catherine slightly stunned, until Lindsey leaned up against her mom lovingly and put an arm around her.


	5. Mirrors

**LOST AND FOUND**

CHAPTER 5 

Sara escorted Rachel to the interrogation room. Rachel sat down and Sara went to find the others.

Warrick and Greg were in the DNA lab. The blood on the bracelet was Rachel's. A moment after the test came back, Grissom strolled in.

"Hey!" Warrick exclaimed, "We might be able to prove Rachel was taken by force." He said, showing him the broken bracelet. Grissom was impressed.

"We'll ask her if it's hers, if she was wearing it that day." He said.

"Rachel's ready…" Sara informed, as she appeared at the door.

Rachel sat in the interrogation room staring at the two-way glass. As Grissom and Warrick entered, she greeted them with her gaze.

"Hello Rachel, I'm Gil Grissom, this is Warrick Brown. We need to ask a few questions about yesterday, if that's alright." Grissom announced as he and Warrick each took a seat facing Rachel, who nodded slightly, not knowing what to expect.

"Can you tell us about… exactly what happened from the time you left your class to when Sara met you at the hospital?" Warrick asked. Rachel smiled nervously and ran her tongue along her lips.

"I went to the office…" Rachel started, "I handed my note to the receptionist and told her I was going to the dentist." She explained, and then paused to remember more. "Then, I left the school. I sat outside on the curb to wait for my mom, I was thinking about… things… and suddenly my dad was there," she said.

"Did you see him arrive?" Warrick asked.

"No, I was thinking. And I had a headache. He came up behind me." Rachel replied.

"What did he say?" Grissom wondered.

"He said… I can't remember… he said… no, wait. He asked me how I was doing, and I reminded him he was on a restraining order and he had to leave, or he'd get in trouble," Rachel said quickly, like she was overflowing with information she would forget. Grissom nodded.

"Is that when he cut you?" Warrick asked Rachel, pointing to her injured arm. Rachel nodded and fiddled nervously with the bandage.

"He grabbed me, and I panicked. I realized I was in trouble… I tried to get my phone, but I think I dropped it. I can't really remember the rest. Sorry…" Rachel said. Grissom shifted in his seat.

"Rachel," he said, leaning forwards, "how did it come to be… that… that someone like you, like yourself… attends Butterfield Academy? It's for out of hand kids…" he asked, a question that was clearly eating at him, yet irrelevant to the current investigation. Rachel's gaze grew dark.

"I ran away from home," She replied. Which surprised everyone considering none of her current friends knew that.

"Why was that?" Grissom asked her. He could tell she was being vague on purpose.

"I was nine. It was a long time ago." She said. She was putting off telling him the real reason and like treading water, she'd soon cave. Grissom kept his patience.

"Rachel." He said slowly to make sure she was listening. She was. In fact, she was very focused which was odd since she seemed completely incapable of giving a strait answer. Or she was going over an elaborate way to stretch the procrastination of telling the real reason, which seemed quite ingenious. "Rachel… why did you run away?" Grissom asked. She bit her lip.

"I found out…" she said with such a great sadness nobody could relate to.

"How did you find out?" Grissom asked… skipping the essential 'why' in case the 'how' led to it without her noticing. She was quick and caught his trick. Smirking, Rachel drummed her fingers on the shiny table.

"I found out how I could prove it, and I did research… and I asked a police officer for an address… and I found her," Rachel said.

"You were nine, Rachel… what were you researching?" Grissom asked, finally convinced the conversation was going nowhere.

"You'll never believe me…" Rachel said in a singsong voice, like she was trying to get a kid to give her something she wanted.

"Rachel, I believe you," Grissom insisted. Surprisingly, Rachel smiled and giggled silently to herself. It was unclear for a second weather or not she was incredibly pleased or sad, mystified, or frightened.

"Is there something wrong?" Warrick asked, definitely confused. Rachel turned her mysterious gaze to him, bursting now with happiness.

"Nobody believes me!" Rachel said excitedly, smiling almost fiendishly. Turning to Grissom she whispered, "people think I'm crazy." Grissom shifted awkwardly in his seat again.

"I wouldn't say that…" he assured her. In the observation room, Greg turned to Sara and Nick;

"Is she insane?" He speculated. Sara just shook her head. What else could possibly have happened to Rachel was beyond her.

"I don't think you're crazy, Rachel. You're smart. I know you are, you don't know who to trust, or to whom to return the favor," Grissom said. Rachel glanced at him in admiration.

"Then, Mr. Grissom… would you believe me if I told you I was kidnapped at age two by Pauline and George Weiss… and no matter what I could prove it? With science?" Rachel said, like it was a rehearsed speech she'd longed to perform. Although it was a lot to digest, Grissom kept his promise.

"Rachel I would believe you, because I know you are brilliant. You and I are both scientists, so let's talk it out scientifically." He offered, overjoyed he'd finally pried it out of her. Rachel looked pleased.

"Rachel? What about San Francisco?" Warrick asked, not knowing what to make of the kidnapping story. Rachel froze. Grissom shot him a look. The girl stood up uncertainly, her gaze fixed on the CSI who asked about what she didn't want to tell. As if she was finished sending him a sub conscious message, she turned away and strolled over to the two-way glass. She turned back to Grissom and Warrick.

"Y'know what I like about this room, Mr. Brown?" Rachel asked, with a sudden perk to her tone.

"What's that?" Warrick asked, playing along as he was already in deep.

"It's safe. There's good people here. Good people of science. Like you. And… they're locked on the outside, with all the liars and assholes they belong with… San Francisco isn't any of that." Rachel explained, referring to her parents as 'them'.

"Rachel, there was something you wanted to share with me, remember?" Grissom reminded the girl. She looked at him reluctantly.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said with a sigh. "You're gonna have to figure it out yourselves now." She replied sadly. She wandered over to the glass that separated her from the other CSI's who she was unknowingly being watched by. She approached the mirror and blew a puff of mist on the surface, and started to write backwards letters S-R-O-R-R-I-M. Sara, Greg and Nick watched as Rachel hauntingly spelt out "Mirrors" for them. Rachel turned back to Grissom, smiled sweetly, and as the message faded away, she left the room.


	6. Vienna Blood

**LOST AND FOUND**

**(a very long…) CHAPTER 6**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or any of the characters. If I did, then I wouldn't waste my time writing fanfiction. I'd waste it writing episodes.

"Why… why would you do that, Warrick?" Grissom sputtered impatiently. "I had her, she was going to tell us everything we needed to know," he said, "and you scared her. Now we have no reason to hold her parents and they could hurt her again!"

"What she's telling us is a load of BS Griss, can't you tell? She's out of her mind and frankly, I don't want to be running around with you and Nick and Greg and Sara chasing clues to a puzzle that exists only in her head," Warrick argued.

"What makes you think she's lying? What happened to innocent until proven guilty?" Grissom yelled, getting impatient.

"What happened to follow the evidence? Grissom… there is no evidence to support her story!" Warrick explained, on the edge.

"You're right. There is no evidence. Thanks to you," Grissom replied bluntly. As he left the room, he waved Nick over from the observation room. "I want you to take this, Nicky," Grissom said, handing him the evidence bag containing the bracelet, "ask her if it's hers," Grissom instructed. Nick nodded, shaken having witnessed the argument. "Then," Grissom continued only so Nick could hear, "ask her how her father died,"

"But she never said-" Nick started

"Just ask her, Nicky." Grissom replied. He turned to Sara and Greg. "You two take Warrick and meet me in the layout room in…" he checked his watch, "thirteen minutes." He said. They agreed, and Grissom took off to the interrogation room where George and Pauline Weiss were waiting, with an attorney. Grissom took a seat and wondered what he could possibly accuse them of in the meantime to keep Rachel safe until she spilled her secret.

"I have only one question…" Grissom said, addressing the Weiss' and their attorney.

Outside, Nick carefully approached Rachel, who was sitting on one of the hall benches. She saw him and didn't know exactly what to do.

"Hi Rachel,"

"Hi."

"My name's Nick… I-I have two questions," he stated, wondering how she'd take it before moving on.

"I just had an interrogation. Weren't you at the party behind the glass?" She retorted, with a bit of rudeness that was purely defensive.

"Yeah, but I still have two questions I'd like to ask you," he insisted. Rachel just stared at the floor.

"Shoot"

"Is this yours?" He asked, holding up the bad containing the broken, bloodied bracelet. Rachel looked up, and examined it. She looked at Nick.

"S'mine." She said. Nick noticed the engravings.

"You sure? Those… aren't your initials are they?"

"I'm sure," Rachel insisted adamantly.

"Okay," Nick said, accepting it.

"What's your other question, Nick?" Rachel asked with a sudden tone of politeness. Nick hesitated. He hated to poison her with the essential question.

"Well…" he started. After a long pause, Rachel frowned in concern.

"Just ask me. Quick and painless. Like a bandaid," Rachel persisted, adding humor to the sullen conversation at the same time sensing something important.

"Rachel… I need to know… how your father died," Nick finally shot. He got what he expected.

"I don't like talking about that," she said, turning with a sudden vulnerability to avoid eye contact.

"That's too bad." Nick replied, inside killing himself using the tone he did, yet knowing he needed an answer. She suddenly came around.

"He bled to death," she said, "I thought you'd find that a bit obvious." She suddenly shot.

He noticed a waver in her voice, and wheeled around to see what she was looking at. George and Pauline Weiss were being let go. Hostility clouded the hallway and everyone felt it closing in. Turning around to see Rachel's reaction, Nick just caught a glimpse of her rushing out the door. Sara, Greg, Grissom and Warrick were hurrying over. All five shot outside after her. In the pouring rain, Pauline was yelling,

"Rachel! Come, hun. Let's go home. It's all okay." Which disgusted all the CSI's knowing how not okay it actually was. Rachel was keeping her distance.

"There's no way in hell I'm coming home, mom," she screamed, "Not even if you lived in a tree and the world were flooded with pee!" Rachel exclaimed. "Never!" she added, storming quickly away.

"Don't be stupid, Rachel, go home with your mother, you little spoiled bitch" George demanded, appalling everyone outside.

"If anyone's stupid dad, it's you. You… you're an idiot. Tell them, dad. Tell'em!" Rachel yelled. At this, Pauline started crying fearfully, begging her ex-husband into the car.

"Rachel, just come home. If you know what's good for you," Pauline insisted. Rachel wasn't swayed.

"I know what's good for me mom. It has nothing to do with you." Rachel spat, turning away finally, but not before yelling at her parents to go 'burn in hell'. She continued away from everyone as George pulled his wife into her car, and she willingly left with him, leaving Rachel walking through the torrential downpour to nowhere but away. Giving up a bit of hope of helping the way-too-fargone girl and her way-too-fargone parents, Grissom headed inside. Nick followed lead.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Sara blasted, stunned at the turnaround.

"She's coming back, Sara. Relax. We are 'good people of science,'" Grissom assured her.

"Yeah, Sara… she trusts us…" Nick added. Sara only stared at them in disbelief.

"Tha… that's not trust." Sara stuttered, fuming, pointing in direction of the argument. Everyone else started heading inside too. She couldn't believe the nerve. "You don't know trust! Someone like her… could…could never trust someone who's just going to walk out like that. Like her parents did," Sara screamed, not realizing how angry she was or why she was that angry in the first place. Greg stalled, feeling sympathetic.

"Well… go get her, Sara." Greg suggested, standing in the doorway to escape the rain. "It's a bit wet out here… I'll wait for you inside… okay?" He offered. Sara stood in the parking lot like a stubborn kid, kind of feeling bad about her outburst. Not letting any weakness overcome her, at the same time loving Greg for his compassion, she silently agreed and trudged, completely soaked, after Rachel while her coworkers entered the crime lab.

Greg turned to Grissom as he entered the lobby.

"What was it you asked Pauline and George?" he inquired. Grissom smirked in admiration of the young CSI's attentiveness.

"I asked them if they had Rachel's birth certificate," he answered.

"Did they?" Greg asked

"Nope," Grissom said in a kidding tone, "Apparently they sent it out to get a passport for Rachel and never got it back," he added.

"Liars," Greg chuckled.

"Well, Greg, it happens all the time." Grissom assured. "But, it seems a little too convenient. You're right. Brass is looking into it." He said. Greg nodded in satisfaction.

"Rachel!" Sara yelled, chasing the estranged girl. Rachel ignored her and started to run. "RACHEL!" Sara yelled again. Rachel this time stopped, turned and screamed back:

"WHAT!" Sara caught up to her and stopped. They were standing under a group of trees in a field on the far side of the parking lot. It was dark, except for the constant and repetitive strobe of yellow lights from a highway construction crew set up about 200 metres away. The rain still fell, in big drops, through the trees and soaked into the spongy grass and turned the field into a swamp in a matter of minutes. Rachel stood there, staring at Sara, expecting some dramatic explanation as to why she shouldn't run away and why she should've gone with her parents. She gazed at the CSI as the yellow light continually flickered across her face. "What?" Rachel repeated.

"Come inside, Rachel. Please." Sara pleaded. Rachel rolled her eyes and returned her gaze to Sara, sighing.

"I don't want to come inside," Rachel said, matter-of factly. Sara thought she was just being stubborn for the sake of arguing.

"Rachel, the investigation isn't over yet. We… I… we all want you to be safe until it is over. All you had to do was tell us. Then your par- George and Pauline- wouldn't be out there to harm you." Sara argued, while Rachel stood in the rain not caring one bit about what she said. "See, Rach… you are digging a hole for yourself and I'm offering you a hand out of there. What are you gonna do?" Sara asked her. Rachel brushed her hair out of her eyes and took a deep breath, falsely alerting Sara to her compliance.

"So if I'm digging a hole, Sara…" Rachel said, as she turned away again, "take away my shovel." She sneered. As she turned walking meaningfully away, Sara rushed towards her and grabbed her arm. Noticing her abrasions, she loosened her grip, but kept it firm. Rachel didn't even try to escape or to fight back; she just turned to Sara, and broke down into tears. As a friend, and a stranger, Sara hugged her back. Rachel broke the silence.

"I'm glad you came back…" she whispered.

"…Which was weird, because I never was away, really." Sara explained to everyone, who'd gathered in the layout room to review what they had and make sense of it all. Rachel was sojourned in the family room.

"So, what do we have so far?" Grissom asked, addressing the whole team.

"Rachel's testimony against her father is backed up by all the evidence here, she claims the bracelet's hers… which proves a struggle, and her father's fingerprints in her blood, on her phone, found at the crime scene… put him there. It basically all adds up," Nick explained, "and considering his TRO, and what triggered it, a safe bet is that he inflicted Rachel's wounds…" he added.

"Not only the physical ones," Sara added, " the demonstration in the parking lot suggests he's responsible for the emotional ones too." She said, followed by a long pause. Warrick broke the awkward silence.

"I guess, normally that would mean case closed, except she claims to have been kidnapped," Warrick reminded everyone, with a hint of sarcasm. Nobody was really sure what to believe.

"Considering how dramatically freaked out she is about not telling anyone, I believe her. Something's up." Greg suggested, while absently flipping through pictures of Rachel's injuries.

"And she can supposedly… prove that." Nick said.

"Guys…?" Greg whispered. He seemed concentrated on something, one of the pictures.

"Greg… buddy, you alright?" Nick asked, as everyone collected to see what he was looking at. It turned out to be the record the nurse has filled out. Greg jumped up to explain when he noticed everyone's confused and expectant glances.

"She has hemophilia, guys… that's the proof!" Greg exclaimed. The group stood either confused or completely in the know. Sara looked as though she'd realised a very difficult crossword clue.

"So simple we overlooked it…" Grissom said.

"Yet," Greg continued for him, "simple enough for a smart girl to figure out," he added.

"Just hard enough to keep her parents from catching on." Grissom said. "Good work Greggo…" he added, as he left the room, beaming at the fresh discovery. They saw him flip open his cell, and round the corner out of sight. Warrick and Nick still looked confused.

"How is it you know what this is?" Warrick asked Greg.

"I'm like a sponge…" he started,

"Don't even start, Greg." Nick warned. He turned to Sara, "and you? How do you know about this?" he asked her. Sara was hesitant.

"Well… I… just know." She said. Nick mouthed 'liar' to Warrick, who grinned. "Hey!" Sara quipped. "I know someone who died from it… okay?" Sara added, silencing the group. Turning to Greg, she said, "How about you give these two a little grade ten biology lesson, Greg." Sara suggested. He nodded in agreement.

"Hemophilia… it's a rare inherited bleeding disorder that is housed on the X chromosome… Rachel, being female, has two X chromosomes, obviously… meaning she'd have to inherit the trait from not only her father, but also her mother," Greg explained, turning to Sara, who had a deathly glare meant for Nick.

"This proves her story, Warrick. Her father has the disease. George does not. She's telling the truth," Sara said solemnly.

"And you can tell just by looking at him he doesn't have it?" Warrick asked.

"Yes," she answered, "yes I can." Nick suddenly realised something.

"Rachel told me her father bled to death!" Nick exclaimed. The whole possibility of Rachel's outrageous story actually being true silenced the CSI's, who uniformly glanced towards Rachel in the family room. The girl who'd been proven right.

An hour later, Pauline and George Weiss were back in the interrogation room, befuddled as to why they were there. Greg was for his first time, alone, as he thought he could handle it.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weiss," he announced, as if he was addressing a group of nine-year olds. "Do either of you know about the Hemophilia disease?" he asked. Pauline turned to her husband as the lawyer snorted in entertainment. Greg ignored him.

"Hemophilia… the absence of clotting factors eight or nine," George spoke up. "I'm a doctor. I am supposed to know these things, it's my job." He put in. Greg was mildly impressed.

"Excellent. You are of course aware of the simple genetics of hemophilia, and that your daughter, Rachel suffers from type A?" Greg inquired. George looked surprised.

"I knew about Rachel having it…" George started,

"How is this relevant, Mr. Sanders?" The lawyer butted in.

"Well, it's relevant in that Rachel suffers from this disease and George doesn't," Greg said.

"So? Her father doesn't suffer from the same disease, that doesn't prove anything!" said the attorney, who was very unaware how much it actually did prove. Greg looked at him, giving him a chance to realise and take back what he said, but the moment never came.

"It actually proves everything, so listen up," Greg warned, "sounds like you all could do with a lesson," he said, rolling a chalkboard out of the corner so they could see. Taking a piece of chalk, Greg drew an XX in the right corner and an XY in the left. Underneath both those, he drew another XX in the middle of the board. "This is Rachel," he said, pointing to the XX in the middle of the board, the one he just drew. "For her to suffer from Hemophilia, she needed to inherit the gene from both parents. It so happens that the hemophilia gene is carried on the X chromosome," he explained, circling Rachel's two X's. "Meaning, at least one of the mother's chromosomes carries it," he continued, circling one of the X's from the right, "And that the father's X chromosome carries it," he said, circling the X from the diagram in the left corner. "Whoever Rachel's father is has hemophilia." Greg finished. Pauline, who'd been quiet the entire time, finally spoke.

"Can't you prove it any other way?" She asked.

"Yes," Greg said, "with DNA, if you are willing to provide us with a sample," he told her. She still looked worried, and was determined to win the battle she'd already lost.

Greg emerged from the interrogation with two willingly donated samples of DNA to run a test of assurance.

"The case just doesn't seem finished to me," Warrick later admitted after Greg reported to the entire team that Rachel was definitely not Pauline and George's daughter.

"Yeah," Nick agreed. "It seems as though we've solved a case but we never really knew what the crime was." He added.

"Okay so we know she was taken from her biological parents, according to her, kidnapped. But, I mean… she could have been really little and misinterpreted it, maybe she was just adopted…" suggested Greg.

"But then how come she so vividly remembers her father's death?" Grissom asked, almost rhetorically.

"We need to know who her father is… or was…" Sara said. Everyone agreed.

"And the whole San Francisco fiasco…" Warrick reminded everyone. "Maybe I'll do some research… murders in San Francisco around fifteen years ago?" He said, when he caught a glare of annoyance from Grissom. Warrick left to find out what he could. As he hurried off, Grissom's phone rang. He stepped away to answer it, and two minutes later, reappeared.

"That was Brass." He said to Nick, Sara and Greg, "No passport applications have been made for a Rachel Weiss," he reported.

"Bunch of liars," Greg snorted. Sara smiled.

"Maybe something will turn up if we search their house," Nick suggested. Everyone dispersed to collect their things.

Hearing his office phone ringing, Grissom hurried to his desk to answer it.

"Grissom," he said monotonously.

"Hey, it's Catherine," she said.

"How is Lindsey? And you… how are you?" Grissom asked. There was a short pause on the other line.

"Well, we're hanging in there… umm Grissom, I phoned to say I'm on a case. Not Rachel's… or anything like that… it's a hit and run downtown. So, that's where I'll be. Okay?" Catherine said. Grissom wished her luck on her case and hung up.

"Are you an entomologist?" a voice asked. Grissom wheeled around to see Rachel standing in the doorway.

"Yes," he replied, admiring her vocabulary. She looked around and he watched her in silence, letting her browse.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Grissom asked her.

"I'm worried… about… something," she stated.

"What's that?"

"That I imagined it all," Rachel replied, "the murder… the cold night outside… her crying, the smell." Grissom thought it hard to just imagine details like that, but he went along with it, curious.

"What smell?" he inquired.

"Lead," she paused, "…do you still believe me?"

"Yes, Rachel, of course I do… but you should be aware… there's a lot of evidence that proves it actually did happen." Grissom assured her.

"But you believe me?"

"Yes,"

"Your friend Warrick Brown doesn't believe me. And I don't blame him… I mean there have been so many unbelievable things in my lifetime, I'm surprised people bother to listen," Rachel said.

"I'm listening," Grissom assured her. Rachel smiled.

"It's so rare when people do listen to me, that when they do, I don't know how to say any of it," she said.

"Somehow that makes sense," Grissom said, kind of understanding her problem.

"And I'm scared… I – I think I'm in denial or something, it's weird… but I think I've spent my entire life convincing myself of what happened, because I could convince no one else, and now… I'm having doubts anything happened at all…" she continued.

"Rachel, we have evidence that proves your story… trust me, it happened. We just need to figure it out," he insisted, repeating himself.

"Well, never mind then… don't trust the crazy girl…" she whispered, "sorry I wasted your time…" Rachel left before he could say any more, and left Grissom wondering about the conversation he just had, and its significance.

Sara, Nick, Greg and Grissom approached the Weiss residence and greeted the cop who was waiting to let them inside. Once inside, it was hard to believe anything but love ever took place. The walls were plastered with family portraits, which sickeningly looked so unknowledgeable of Rachel's past. She looked like she belonged. Nick and Grissom headed upstairs, while Sara and Greg searched the kitchen and living room on the first level.

"Mirrors…" Greg whispered to himself, running his flashlight along the various surfaces of the room.

"Yeah, what does that mean, anyways?" Sara asked, "some kind of code? Maybe… a metaphor?"

"Or, something as simple as 'use a mirror and find the clues'" Greg suggested.

"Okay you do that, Greg… while I figure out what it really means," Sara quipped. Greg shook his head and ignored her proposition. Sara looked deep in thought. "Mirrors… looking at things differently, reflections… a texture? Gosh… it could be so many things…"

"Maybe yeah… looking at things in a different way… say, a way her parents wouldn't see, and definitely looking in a way dissimilar to what we are doing now…" Greg said. Sara thought for a moment.

"Okay, so…right now we are standing… holding flashlights, looking for clues to anything anywhere." Sara said.

"What we should be doing is, sitting, drop our flashlights, and look for clues to nothing nowhere," Greg said, "Yeah that seems productive," he chimed.

"No, no… say if I was Rachel, and I had a secret, I'd maybe… write it down. Or write clues to it down, to remind myself," Sara thought out loud, "but that would risk people finding out…" she continued. Suddenly it hit her. "Oh my god… Greg…" she said, getting down to look under the table, "look!" she exclaimed.

Upstairs, Grissom and Nick had found Rachel's bedroom. It was immaculate. A bit too much so. The walls, the floor, were spotless. She must have had thirty notebooks stacked in a compulsively straight pile on her desk. The notebooks were filled with letters, just random letters. Absolutely filled. Her wall behind her desk was slathered in post - it notes, with random things such as "dentist appointment at 11", "Lindsey math test Wednesday", and regular teenage girl stuff.

"There has to be something in these notebooks," Nick said, flipping through them, but still finding nothing but gibberish. Grissom opened Rachel's closet. Clothes, boxes… regular closet stuff. The floor in the back right corner was displaced; a hidden compartment? Grissom used a short knife to pry the carpet away and found just that. He smiled and called Nick over, just as Greg and Sara came in, holding an evidence bag containing countless little notes.

"Taped to the bottom of the kitchen table," Sara announced. Impressed, but still excited about his discovery, Grissom extracted a sturdy, leather-covered box with a heavy layer of dust from the secret compartment. It was pretty small, about the size of a VHS box. He opened it. Nick, Greg, and Sara gathered around curiously. Inside was a piece of green glass, with what appeared to be blood on one side.

"It's like this piece of glass sat in a pool of blood, rather than being something that cut someone," Grissom noticed.

"Maybe," said Sara, "It's a souvenir of her father's death…"

"If it is that old, the blood would be too degraded to get any DNA off of it," Grissom said, disappointedly. Sara strode over to Rachel's desk, and started opening drawers. One didn't open all the way. Another secret compartment.

"Lord. This kid must've spent her entire life hiding this murder memorabilia," Nick said as he watched Sara try and pry the fake wall from the back of the drawer. As she pried it off, Grissom and Greg approached, anticipating another key piece of evidence. Inside, was a music box. One of the tiny wind-up kind with a barrel and piano-like keys that struck the pins on the barrel as it rotated to play a tune. Curious, Sara started to turn the crank and lonely, sad notes filled the air. Grissom smiled.

"Ahh, Strauss' Vienna Blood," he said admirably, identifying the tune. Sara abruptly stopped turning the crank, and shuddered. At that moment, Grissom's phone started ringing.

"Grissom," he answered.

"Hey, Griss, it's Warrick… umm minor crisis…" Warrick said, sounding rather shaken. Grissom suddenly felt a sinking feeling, and hesitated to answer. "Griss, who is there with you?" he asked. Grissom looked around, slightly confused. Sara, Nick and Greg looked worried, sensing uneasiness.

"Well, Greg… Nick and Sara…. Why?" Grissom asked,

"Get out of there…" Warrick said, "go to another room… this is serious…" he said. Grissom exited without another word and went downstairs.

"Warrick, you wanna tell me what the hell is going on?" Grissom demanded.

"I was looking through the murder files in San Francisco… and there were millions, no joke Griss… so I decided to narrow it down, so I was thinking… that I'd run Rachel's DNA through CODIS, see if I got a hit off a relative or something that could narrow the field…" Warrick was stalling, not wanting to reveal the rest of what he found. By now, even Grissom was shaking with fear… not terror, but fear for knowing the truth. "And I did, Griss… to one murder… and it's really bad, I don't know how to say this…"Warrick almost whimpered.

"You got a hit?" Grissom whispered, "who?"

Meanwhile, Greg had been gazing at the contents of that same drawer.

"Guys, there's a necklace in there… it matches the bracelet we found…" He said, pointing to a sparkling chain that lay strewn among the scattered contents of the drawer.

"Get it, Greg, it backs up Rachel's story…" Nick instructed, as Grissom came back in, looking flustered. "Who was that?" Nick asked. Grissom paused.

"Catherine… she… she needs help on her case," Grissom lied, "Sara, would… would you go?" he insisted. Moments after she left, he took a deep breath and prepared to report to Nick and Greg the latest developments.


	7. Never Again

DISCLAIMER: I do not own CSI, or anything to do with it AT ALL. I also do not own the song Father's Son by 3 Doors Down. I'd like to but I don't.

Grissom left Nick and Greg in a state of confusion. Confusion that attacks you and creates a fluttery feeling of panic. The panic needed to be neutralized; they still hadn't finished looking through Rachel's room. Wordless, Nick started bagging and tagging the 30-some-odd journals Rachel had written in code. Greg scanned the colourless carpet, finding nothing. Peculiar… nothing. Was the carpet too clean? He frankly didn't care at the moment, he was preoccupied. He turned to Nick.

"Do you think Rachel knows?" He inquired. Nick paused for a moment and absently flipped through the pages of a random notebook he was holding.

"She knows more than any of us that's for damned sure," Nick replied. "Screw… I mean what are we even doing? Why does it matter we find out her past? The people responsible for screwing with her are behind bars, and the kid is as messed as could be… yet Grissom thinks we should pry into her life and dig up her secrets. WHY?" Nick thought out loud.

"Secrets must remain secrets… but I think she wants us to find them. I honestly think she does." Greg said. "She doesn't just tell us because she's spent her entire life hiding them and is having fun with it… I don't know… I understand where she's coming from but it seems so illogical" He continued as he knelt down to look under her bed.

Shoeboxes.

"Nick…" Greg said, as he opened one. Nick strode over to see the contents of the first shoebox. "Music boxes…" Greg said. He took one and turned the crank to emit the lonely notes into the air. Nick recognized the tune as the same one Sara played earlier.

"Ahh, more Vienna Blood," He exclaimed. Taking another shoebox, Nick continued, "This song has something to do with it." Opening the new box, he wasn't surprised to find two dozen more. And that's what they all contained. Music Boxes.

"With what… it?" Greg asked.

"It… the it we haven't figured out yet." He clarified. Greg nodded in understanding.

………………………………

Sara pulled up to the crime lab in a slightly pissy mood, Grissom having her help Catherine on an easy case. The guy was so spontaneous she gave up any hope in figuring out why he did what he did, ever. Entering, she spotted Catherine in the DNA lab, talking to Mia. She entered and listened in. Catherine got her results and casually said hi to her coworker, without making eye contact. When Sara followed her out, looking a bit hurt, she turned to decipher what was happening.

"Sara… what?" She said sighing. Sara looked a slight bit dazzled. Catherine had asked her help with something did she not?

"What was it you needed help with?" Sara asked her. Catherine frowned.

"Sara, I wrapped my case not thirty seconds ago. What is going on?" Catherine asked.

"You… Grissom said you called and needed help with your case and… here I am." Sara explained. Catherine suddenly thought that was something Grissom would do if he didn't want Sara working a case. Why, she hadn't a clue. She caught a hint of something fishy.

"Oh… well. Sorry, about that…" Catherine said, motioning to what happened a couple moments ago. Sara sighed.

"I thought you were just being rude," She replied. "Grissom obviously doesn't want me to work on his case." Sara said with a tone of disdain. She paused. "You never called him?" Sara asked, to confirm. Catherine shook her head. Rolling her eyes Sara scornfully headed to find Warrick and get an update on Rachel's former whereabouts.

…………………………..

Rachel sat with her feet on the table. She was immured in a gloomy room, alone…imprisoned in dank and cold walls. The cold, lifeless walls of the social worker's office. She was listening to music with her eyes closed. Her headphones were turned up high enough for someone standing four or five strides away to hear bits and pieces of the treble in the song. Randomly, she sang a couple verses.

_In the glare of a neon sign  
She laid her body down  
The damned walked in beside her  
And laid his money down_

_He said don't try to scream now  
But I want this one to hurt  
And tonight my pretty one  
I'm gonna get my money's worth_

_He said they never listen  
She said they'd never understand  
That I don't this for pleasure  
I just do it cause I can_

_I swear I didn't want to  
And I swear I didn't know  
That things like this could happen  
To a 17-year old_

Rachel subconsciously and effortlessly tapped her hands on her legs to the beat of the music, showing she obviously had an intense musical talent, but never made use of it. She also randomly hummed parts while examining her nails.

_In the haze of a smoky room  
He chokes that bottle down  
It's been a month since her saw her face  
Underneath the blood stained gown_

She hummed an instrumental part. She never got a chance to sing the rest of her song, as a nurse walked in. Rachel took off her headphones and turned her music off. All the nurse had said before was that she had a visitor, and she'd been waiting a good ten minutes. The same nurse was accompanying one of the guys from the crime lab into the room. He was on his phone. Rachel felt more interrogations were unnecessary but she had nothing better to do, so she resorted to doing what others made her do. The guy from the crime lab looked worried and shocked which made Rachel nervous. She'd talked with him before and she anticipated he'd try tricking her into giving up her secret. She suddenly discarded that thought. His expression didn't fit that subject. She waited nervous and excited. He said 'bye' to Nick and looked at her with a newfound almost… admiration, then took a seat.

Grissom took a seat across from Rachel and put an evidence bag on the table. Rachel recognized the contents as the post-its she'd stuck to the underside of her kitchen table. She let herself laugh. Grissom didn't. Rachel waited to see what he'd say. Maybe he'd ask her help for decoding them. She told herself not to cave. That notion amused her. Her hardcore emotional front wouldn't give way. He would have a mental breakdown before she did. Grissom was almost reading her, because he hadn't said anything as of yet. He was only observing.

"Rachel, I know what happened," Grissom started. That was not what she was expecting. She listened. It was probably a trick. "I just don't know how it happened," he added. Rachel felt cheated by his vagueness. She raised an eyebrow as if to say she had nothing to say to that comment. It really meant nothing to her out of context. Grissom continued, "The fights, the constant trips to the hospital?" as if he was trying to trigger a memory. She knew what he was talking about now. She got up.

"I want you to nevermind that." She shot. Grissom seemed pleased with her defensiveness.

"Rachel, tell me everything you remember," Grissom said slowly as if he was losing his patience. Rachel wasn't easily swayed. Be a wall, she told herself.

"Leave it alone," Rachel said blankly. Grissom leaned back as if to try another approach.

"Rachel… you said, when you were…" he paused to remember, "nine… when you were nine, you ran away from home." Grissom looked her in the eye. "Where did you go?" He asked. Rachel's eyes glazed over for the first time in front of Grissom. He felt a tad guilty.

"Mr Grissom!" Rachel said loudly. Not madly or angrily, just loudly. Which was odd. " WHY?" she lowered her voice and sat down again. "Why does it MATTER where I went? I was NINE. I was stupid and nine and it doesn't matter where I went." Rachel yelled in a whisper, repeating herself. Grissom had to agree. But he knew more than he was letting on.

"It was when you found out, wasn't it?" Grissom said. "You were angry. Understandably. Where did you go, Rachel?" Rachel suddenly got the notion he knew but he wanted her concurrence.

"I don't remember anything important. Weird, odd little details, though," She said, answering his former question, which confused Grissom momentarily.

"Okay, tell me all you remember. Odd details are good. I like those," Grissom said, shifting gears.

"It was cold. I woke up and it was really late. I could tell because my mom and dad played classical music after my bedtime." Rachel said. As if she suddenly thought it was a bad idea to continue, she stopped. "I… I am feeling really nauseous right now…" Rachel said.

"The mind will often times try to suppress the memory of traumatic events, Rachel… you have a vivid memory, and… according to these," he indicated the notes, "you never tried to forget it…why?" He wondered.

"I wanted someone to find out…" Rachel said, as a tear silently escaped from her eye. "I didn't know how to say it at all, without sounding like a psycho…" Grissom just nodded, an unsubstantial understanding. He wasn't getting anything out of her. She was like a wall. He decided to confront her with the last thing he came to talk to her about. He tried to choose his words. Explain or not? Lay it out? Be vague? Be upfront… too late for that.

"Rachel? What about your mother? There are people you aren't telling me about…" He said. She looked up, knowing he knew a lot more than she'd anticipated.

"That's where," Rachel said suddenly. If he knew that much, there'd be no point in keeping more from him.

"Where? Where you went the time you ran away?" Grissom asked. Rachel nodded. "You went to find your mother…" He said, realizing it out loud. Rachel nodded again.

"Only, I wasn't with an adult, so they didn't let me see her. That's where the police found me and took me home… Then, we moved to Nevada, and that's why I was put into that straightjacket school." Rachel confessed. Grissom was amazed she'd caved. "And besides," Rachel continued, "Sara could've told you that…before… about what happened… it doesn't take a genius to figure that one out…"

"Do you know?" Grissom asked, getting continuously insecure. Rachel looked at him, confused, like he was an idiot.

"Well, she introduced herself to me at the hospital…" Rachel said, as if she was stating the obvious, "Do you think I would forget my own sister's name? Honestly." Rachel, feeling satisfied, turned her music back on and replaced her headphones. Trying hard to ignore Grissom's presence, she started to sing again.

_He thinks about that little girl  
And the one he has at home  
And wonders what if that was my little girl  
Walkin down that road alone?_

_And I've bundled up all these fears inside  
And I've bottled up all of this pain  
And no one or nothing can take this away  
But I won't let it happen again  
Never again  
Never again  
_

Even after Rachel's voice faded away, Grissom felt that her comfort was out of place.

…………………………………………………………….

_Tell me when this story jumps the shark…PLEASE! For my own sanity._


	8. Perrier and Realisation

DISCLAIMER: I do not own CSI. Why would someone who owned CSI… like… waste their time writing fanfics?

After unsuccessfully looking for Warrick, Sara felt the day was progressively getting worse and worse and worse. She was still profoundly angry at Grissom's attempt to get rid of her. She sat in his office, waiting impatiently for his return. She was also confused by certain people's frequent trips past Grissom's office. People taking one too many trips to get coffee. She tried to ignore them but after twenty minutes, she gave up on patience. She strode out of the office in search for someone who had been on her former case. She finally caught a glimpse of Nick, Greg and Warrick in trace. They didn't notice her come up behind them.

"The glass was very old, but it was definitely from a bottle," Hodges was telling them, holding up the green glass. One end of the jagged piece had the unmistakable threads on it, from where you screw the cap on. "I got a sample of saliva from the threads," Hodges continued, "but I doubt you'd get a DNA sample seeing as it was so degraded."

"What about the contents? Beer bottle, maybe?" Nick suggested. Hodges looked agitated at being interrupted. Shaking his head as if talking himself into not lashing out, he continued:

"The sample from one side of the glass was the blood, obviously. The interesting part was the sample from the other side of the glass," Hodges exclaimed, stalling from revealing something not that extremely pressing. "Which consisted of…" he took a sheet of paper and read off the results: "Natural spring water, carbon dioxide, and artificial lime flavouring,"

"Perrier!" Sara exclaimed. Nick, Warrick and Greg were rather startled at her suddenness. Seeing their surprise, "Perrier water. I had it all the time when I was little," she said. Suddenly thoughts exploded. Like she remembered too much at the same time. Swallowing nervously while trying to hide her emotions, she turned to Hodges. "Whose blood was on the other side, Hodges?" She asked in a tone of wonder. Nick, Warrick and Greg were holding their breath wondering if she'd realised what they thought she'd realised.

"As I've said many a time," Hodges responded, "That's not my job." Without a word, Sara left the room deep in thought, leaving the guys in uncertainty.

"Do we… umm… panic now?" Greg asked.

……………………….

Grissom sat at his desk looking at a file. Sara walked in, clearly angry, and sat down. As if he were caught reading her diary, he jumped and closed the file, and slid it into a drawer. He gave her his attention.

"What the hell?" Sara asked, bewildered.

"How's your case?" Grissom asked stupidly, trying to calm her down.

"There is no case, Grissom. Cath wrapped it before I even got there. I am not stupid," Sara yelled. Grissom swallowed nervously. "And what was that?" Sara continued, pointing to the drawer where the mystery file lay.

"I-," Grissom started,

"Why did you kick me off the case, Grissom?" She interrupted. He calmly folded his hands on the desk and concentrated on them.

"I think you know, Sara." He said. She rolled her eyes.

"Why couldn't you just tell me straight up? This is so huge, like larger than life. And you want to play games. I can't believe I didn't see it before now. The music boxes tipped me off, but… I didn't see it until now. Dammit, Grissom." Sara said. Grissom winced at his mistake. Suddenly, Sara started to worry. Like he'd just told her someone died.

"Sara-," he whispered, sensing something.

"I need to see her. Where is she? WHERE IS SHE?" Sara shouted.

"She… She's with a social worker, Sara." He said. He started fishing through the slew of papers on his desk. Finding the one he wanted, he handed it to Sara. "There's the address, and the phone number is on the back," he said. Sara took the note and abruptly left.


	9. An Abundance of Q's

A/N: With all due respect to my reviewers, I need some constructive criticism. I still am not satisfied with my story. Stop being so nice! Thanks for all the reviews, though.

………………

Greg, Nick and Warrick were pouring over Rachel's journals. Not so much for evidence, but for interest. She'd obviously written them in some kind of code, and there was a definite abundance of the letter 'Q'. Something that led them to believe it was gibberish. Yet, there were 31 journals and 83 music boxes hidden in Rachel's room for no apparent reason. That had to have significance.

Nick turned the journal he was reading upside down. He was still stumped. Greg looked over at Nick's journal.

"Yours has lots of Q's too. That is sooo weird!" Greg exclaimed in anguish. "How are we s'posed to read these things? Mirrors again?" He wondered aloud. The other two paused as Catherine walked in.

"Catherine, do you have a mirror?" Warrick asked. She handed it to him and got on with what she was really there to say.

"Have any of you seen Sara?" She asked wonderingly. They shook their heads in guilt. "She seemed… mad…ish? I dunno, she almost ran me over in the hallway I thought you guys would know what was wrong. Anyways, what was with the mirror?" She asked. Warrick was reading a page.

"The letters aren't backwards, but the words are! And… I think the Q's are like… spaces. She fills in the spaces with it like a word search…check it out!" He read a bit out loud as best he could.

"Today the doctor said I have Hemophilia I went home and I cried because I don't want to have a disease the doctor told me about it and it made me scared a lot because its genetic and I know that word it means its from my parents have to have it at least my dad does it has to do with chromosomes and he doesn't which made me scared like the time when Sara cried it feels like my stomach is falling out."

All four stared transfixed at what they heard.

"Well," said Greg, "It's a run on sentence and it practically confirms everything." He added to the awkward silence.

………………

Sara arrived at the address on the note from Grissom. It was one of the nicer social worker offices, and she'd seen a few. She entered the waiting room dotted with empty chairs. The receptionist had gone for lunch. Behind the reception counter there was a window that looked into a cramped office, and beyond that another window that led into the gloomy dank room with the shiny table, at which Rachel sat, writing, probably filling out a form. There was also someone in the cramped office. The name on the door said Alison Stern. Alison seemed to be on the phone, and typing something into her computer. She didn't see Sara. She looked kind of happy. Ms. Stern knocked on the window leading into the room where Rachel sat. She gave Rachel the thumbs-up and she smiled. Over Alison's shoulder, Rachel spotted Sara. She headed over cautiously. Leaning on the reception desk.

"Hey Sara…" She said cannily. Sara had no idea what to say back.

"What happened… back there?" Sara asked, meaning the thumbs-up business. Rachel smiled like a kid. She stood up straight. She advanced so that she was a step away from her sister. She looked at her intensely. Unlike Sara, Rachel's eyes were blue and wide with wonder. Otherwise they resembled each other. Sara waited for the girl's response.

"I got a confirmation from a family in Modesto," She said convincingly. Sara was mortified. Rachel sensed it. "And if it all goes well I'll be leaving tomorrow, so… if there's something you want, well… tell me now, or I'm gone." Rachel said. Sara had no words. She was mortified. Rachel returned to the room while Sara stood there, feeling rotten and dead.


	10. Flaw

**A/N: PLEASE I need criticism! And by the way, this is the last chapter. The story cannot possibly be perfect, otherwise I'd be working for Jerry Bruickheimer. PLEASE: Criticism wanted!**

* * *

Feeling important, Greg rushed into Grissom's office. His boss was waiting pensively. Greg stood there for a moment, waiting to be noticed. Grissom looked up and sighed.

"Greg, I'd like you to look into this for me," Grissom said, handing him a folder. Greg swallowed nervously before looking at the contents. "The visitation records for Laura Sidle… I'd like you to look into it for me," Grissom explained to Greg's blank expression. Greg felt kind of awkward. The territory seemed sensitively taboo. He looked down the list. Seeing Rachel's name, he frowned in confusion.

"I thought you said Rachel told you she didn't actually speak with her mother… here…here it says she stayed for twenty-two minutes…" Greg said, looking at the sheet. Grissom nodded. "That's what you want me to look into, gotcha." Greg realised, leaving, almost running into Ecklie on his way out.

Ecklie sneered as he watched Greg depart. He returned his gawk to Grissom.

"Gil, I've been hearing rumors." He started menacingly, as he took a seat in front of Grissom's desk. Grissom frankly didn't care.

"Gee, Conrad… " Grissom started, but Ecklie interrupted him.

"I'd like to know Rachel Weiss' relation to CSI Sidle, Grissom. I've been hearing rumors, Gil. And rumors are not a good thing to be hearing if you're me. So, tell." He said with a slight cackle. Grissom shook his head like it was the most absurd thing he'd ever heard.

* * *

Sara simply wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer. Alison Stern was sitting at the receptionist desk, emotionally overwhelmed by the whole situation.

"Rachel is my biological sister, you must understand this," Sara calmly explained to Alison Stern. Rachel sat in the next room, observing the two, and couldn't help but feel happy about being fought over. For once someone cared.

"I'm sorry, Miss Sidle, there's not much I can do… you can talk to her, but until the York's get parental custody of her… I am her guardian, and beyond that, it's her call." Alison explained, with remorse. Sara was devastated.

"_Parental _custody?" She asked. Alison opened her mouth to say something, but Sara continued: "and who are the York's?" she asked in bewilderment. "Why do complete strangers beat out biological relatives?" Sara asked. Flustered, Alison replied;

"It's just the way the system works, Miss Sidle, I'm sorry,"

"Then the system is FLAWED!" Sara yelled. She turned and headed out towards the door, then decided not to. "You know what? I do want to talk to her. I want to speak with my sister," Sara said to Alison, who obediently led her to the room where Rachel was.

"Miss Sidle, you must know… you have my complete sympathy… I feel for you, I really do… but I can't just deviate from my responsibilities when a child is involved," Alison said, her voice shaking. Sara tried to calm herself, but her blood boiled in rage.

"Rachel isn't a child, she's perfectly able to make her own decisions…" Sara muttered, not exactly knowing how much truth that statement held. Hopefully she could talk some sense into her sister and get her to change her mind.

* * *

Greg was studying the security camera tapes Grissom had gotten for him. Despite being pretty ancient, they worked and that was what mattered at the moment. Warrick walked in with a coffee.

"Hey Greggo… what's this?" Warrick asked casually as he took a seat.

"Are you spying on me for Grissom?" Greg marveled. Warrick laughed.

"No… I'm just bored." Warrick stated, "are those old surveillance tapes? Man… those are… prehistoric beastie things …" he said, taking one from the pile and looking at it.

"Well, technology gets old the minute you invest in an upgrade," Greg suggested, "And that's not the point. These work, and they did their job. I'm looking over them for Grissom," he explained. The two watched the screen. A nine-year-old Rachel walked up to the front desk. She spoke to the secretary for two minutes and twenty seven seconds. She looked like she was trying to persuade her of something. Then a guard walked over, took her by the arm, and led her off screen. Warrick handed Greg the next tape.

"Surveillance of the visitation room…" he said, as they waited for the screen to flicker to life. When it did, they saw the same guard escort Rachel to an empty chair in the middle of an empty room. Forty-five seconds went by, and Rachel fidgeted, playing with a Rubiks cube. She suddenly stopped and sat up straight, but even from the distance of the camera, her shaking was visible. Greg shook his head.

"Freakin' brave kid…" he muttered. Warrick silently agreed, and they continued to watch, transfixed, as Laura Sidle came onscreen, shackled, and led by two armed guards to a seat across the table from the terrified sprite of a girl. From the looks of it, Rachel did most of the talking. She was facing away from the camera, so whatever she said was between two possibly irretrievable and inaccurate minds. Laura might've been crying, it was hard to tell. The greyscale screen made the scene monotonous. Like it almost suddenly meant nothing. A little girl, a woman, a room. The history made the story all the more terrifyingly real.

* * *

Rachel scampered away from the window where she'd been watching the two, and started playing with a Rubiks cube, pretending to be mildly surprised when Ms. Stern walked in with Sara. Rachel sat down at the shiny table, and Ms. Stern left. Sara stood still.

"Come sit," Rachel piped. Sara thought odd her sudden cheeriness. She proceeded to sit down across from this strange kid she knew nothing about, yet was trying to protect. Rachel looked at her with her intense gaze. "The York's are the family in Modesto I'm going to stay with," Rachel explained. "You were wondering that earlier, I thought… well…" she trailed off. When she spoke, she didn't use eye contact, yet before and after, she locked her eyes with Sara's in an intense glare like she was trying to say something subconsciously. Something Sara just noticed. Rachel waited for Sara to say whatever she was going to say. She continued to play with the Rubiks cube. Silence.

"Rachel, you don't have to go…" Sara said finally. Rachel looked at her. Then returned her gaze to the puzzle.

"Yeah, Sara. I do." She replied, with a hint of what Sara hoped was regret.

"No, Rach…" both Sara and Rachel were surprised at the informality. Sara paused in slight embarrassment. "You don't. You can stay with me," Sara said, desperate.

"Sara!" Rachel bursted, "you have your OWN life." She stated. "You have your own life, don't take two steps backwards." Sara said nothing. Rachel sighed and continued, "just because the DNA says we're sisters doesn't mean we are."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sara questioned, after realizing her sister had made a very valid point.

"We've been living separate lives, Sara. We were raised differently. Can't we just go our separate ways… unbothered?" Rachel asked.

"And just forget one another exists?" Sara retorted.

"YEAH!" Rachel shot, feeling that Sara was acting rather belligerent.

"That's never going to work, Rachel." Sara warned.

"Well so far it's been working out pretty damn fine for you!" Rachel yelled, "Hasn't it?"

"I never forgot about you, Rachel…" Sara said, lowering her voice. Rachel put the Rubiks cube on the table and leaned forwards.

"Nobody _ever_ reported me missing, Sara. You made it easier for Pauline and George to camouflage me into their lives!" Rachel cried. At this, Sara paused.

"Rachel… you… you don't, you won't even _begin_ to understand what I went through," Sara started. Rachel interrupted her.

"You're right….you're right, I have no idea. And just because you have a team of genius investigators pouring over my life doesn't mean you have any slight hint of what I went through either." She hissed. Sara pursed her lips, caught proven wrong. Rachel went back to her Rubiks cube. Sara's phone rang. Rachel looked up, distracted. Sara answered the phone, and said hardly anything, just listened. Rachel concentrated on her cube.

"You lied, Rachel." Sara said a moment later. The girl looked up.

"No, probably just left out pertinent information…" She clarified, "Concerning what?" she added, anxious. Sara couldn't help but be amused by this comment.

"Mom. You spoke with her… what did she say?" Sara asked, scared and angry, yet trying to put up a nice friendly front. Rachel grinned.

"She shouldn't be in jail." Rachel said, her smile fading. Sara wanted more. She moved her chair adjacent to her sister's.

"What did she say?" Sara asked slowly. Rachel looked at her for a moment, then looked down.

"I told her what happened, she felt terrible, I cried, she cried." Rachel said vaguely.

"Rachel!" Sara sighed. Silence.

"Shit!" Rachel exclaimed. Sara was taken aback. "Sorry," Rachel apologized. "I thought I had a pattern going." She said, waving the Rubiks cube. Sara grabbed it.

"Damnit, Rachel. You… freakin… genius. Stop being a brat. You're doing this just to make me hate you, aren't you?" Sara shouted. Rachel smiled again. Then it faded.

"Sara, I can't stay with you. You don't want me to stay with you and besides, I got into a private school two blocks away from the York's place. I need this." Rachel assured her. She got up. Sara followed her.

"Rachel… one last thing…" Sara said. Rachel stopped but didn't turn around. "You at age nine, knew about genetics? I don't think so…"

"That's your desperation? To make me stay and answer all your questions?" Rachel asked, turning around. Then, she continued, for the first time, with her eyes fixed on Sara's, "I'd read about Nicholas and Alexandra and Queen Victoria." Rachel explained. "And their son… I wasn't a stupid nine-year-old, I doubt you were either." Rachel left Sara holding a messed-up Rubiks cube. She was leaving. There was nothing she could do.

* * *

"Basically, Sara and her sister Rachel were torn apart by the tragedy… one was taken by the law, and one was taken against it. Until now, the two lived separate lives as two different people than they should have been. Rachel was unfortunate enough to have remembered enough to prove her memories weren't imagined, fortunately. Her acting father's attack on her, thrust her life head-first into the eyes of law-enforcement. After much prodding, she broke out her secret, albeit slowly, and we were able to distinguish her memories as fairly accurate. Now, she's in custody of a social worker, and is to the best of my knowledge, heading out to Modesto, to live with a foster family. That, Conrad, is all you need to know," Grissom said, finally taking a breath. Ecklie smiled.

"Wow. I hope you don't forget to… umm… document this counseling go-around with Sara, she deserves it." He remarked, and promptly left Grissom with his deep thoughts. There were still so many unanswered questions. Grissom, for the sake of the incredible story it was, hoped it wasn't over. For Rachel and Sara's sake, he hoped it was.

* * *

The next day, Sara was late on purpose. She wasn't sure if she cared anymore. As she passed the front desk, Judy called to her that she had a package. Surprised, Sara approached the reception counter.

Judy handed her the box. It was about big enough to comfortably contain a tennis ball. She opened it hesitantly. Inside, sat a lonely music box on top of a folded piece of paper. Sara sat down on one of the hallway benches. Placing the box on the bench, she lifted the music box out gently. She held it in her hand for a moment. She didn't have to crank it to know the tune it contained. Her gaze returned to the piece of paper that still lay in the bottom of the box. She took it out and unfolded it. Inside a red hand-drawn heart were the words Lost and Found.

Sara read and reread the message for several minutes trying to place the metaphor, before noticing something written on the back. She flipped over the sheet. Written in normal-looking black pen, was a short message:

_I must admit, Sara… you would've made one kick-ass sister. _

_Love, _

_Rachel._

At that, she couldn't contain her emotions. She dropped her head into her hands and tried not to cry, which obviously didn't work.

Rachel was gone.

…THE END…


End file.
